Thursday, July 22, 2010

Crybaby


The first time I cried, as in super cry with all the "uhog" (mucus) and river of tears, was when I was seven years old. Maybe I've been emotional since then but rarely cried. I always kept my emotions inside my blood vessels and heart. True that I've been a silent and timid, and even slightly effeminate as what my cousins described me, but I just shrugged everything that's been happening around me. My escape from all the turmoil going on inside my frail body (I remember this description from the first fubu I had, hahahahaha! sorry EJ for mentioning you here) was always the wild and corruptive slum environment. Yes, I've experienced to live in a slum and squatters' area for about four of my primary years.

It was fun to be with all the kids in our community. There, you'd find all sorts of children. From rugby-boys, snatchers and prostitutes to nerds, altar boys (ooohh, hot boys! ahahahaha!) and, of course, gays. As for me, I only mingle with the good boys because I already learned that people will be able to tell who you are merely by the type of friends you hang out with and I have to always give good impressions to my family and relatives. We always liked to play the usual games that require 1000 calories, which includes hide-and-seek, habulan-taya and patintero. Sometimes, we do the bahay-bahayan but I always played the part of the middle child and I didn't do any chores at all. The whole baranggay (village) is our playground and sometimes it was not enough so we included the Manila Memorial Park where we had our pseudo-picnics with all the veggies that we picked from our neighbor's semi-garden. Too much of that; I'll post an entry about that next time.

Going back to that dreadful "cryola" event. The story in the previous paragraph is, actually, the result of this event. A day before that big event, I was searching for my Mama in her quarters but couldn't find her. Yes, at the age of seven or even younger, I was already separated from my mother and guess where? In a very popular orphanage in Manila. No, I'm not an orphan and wasn't at that time. Both of my parents were alive, though my Papa passed away about nine year after this. After that long search for her, I decided to go to the playground in front of our classroom and had a swing. I liked sitting in a swing merely because I haven't experienced it before. It gave me tranquility and time for myself. Imagine at the age of seven I was already a loner!

It's nearly dark and, still, something was bothering me. I missed Mama and only her. I wanted her to embrace me from my loneliness and kiss my forehead before I sleep. It was that time that I felt so awkward about the world and it seemed that the human civilization was conspiring against me. I felt something was wrong. Then, someone tapped my shoulder. I hoped it was Mama, I could even imagine her at my back but the voice was different. It was our house mother- a guardian in what is called dormitory in an orphanage. She asked me, "Bakit andito ka pa? Kanina pa kita hinahanap? Saan ka ba nagsususuot na bata?" (Why are you here? I've been looking for you?) I just stared at her and I saw that she felt something about it. I thought she was thinking, "What the hell is going on with this shit kid?" Then, she tried to hold my hand but I didn't allow her. I walked away with disappointment.

After that night, I did the usual routine- taking a bath but this time I enjoyed it because I took a bath using a hose in front of the church. I just enjoyed being alone in my open-field bathroom in front of that holy infrastructure. And I was doing it (bath) naked!

While I was in the classroom learning those stupid English words, somebody knocked and called our teacher. She looked at me so as my teacher while whispering something. Minutes after, I was sitting on a teacher's table inside the Mother Superior/Principal's officel crying my heart out. The reason? I was about to decide my own life at the age of seven!

I really didn't remember how they started that litany but what I understood was that I needed to choose one of my parents. It was not clear to me but everything made sense when they already laid down the scenarios. If I choose my Mama I would be living in that hell dormitory where my housemates were retarded, rugby-boys and children from hell. I have nothing against these children but living with them was like a purgatory on Earth. I was not even mature enough to absorb all those shit plus I have parents or even a group called FAMILY! For Pete's sake, I couldn't stand those so dirty restrooms where shits were all over the walls. My bedsheets smelt like garbage because the drooling retard really liked to bathe it with his ever sour saliva. And those snatcher-bastards made my days so sickly. Our very large room which felt like a very big oven where those Jews were roasted by Nazis, added all the horrors. Those nuns who were hypocrites and hobbies include constant gossiping. The never ending novenas and rosaries we pray. How could they torture us with this activity when, in fact, they should be taking care of our childhood? They were penalizing us by forcing us to kneel for hours of constant repetition of those prayers. And I should not forget the house mother who looked like the devil's wife and treated us like we're her slaves! Oh yes, I thought of these things even when i was seven years old. I didn't like it there.

I knew Mama would be disappointed if I choose Papa over her. I didn't want to choose him because I longed for my Mama's cuddle. Those moments when she'd just stare at me playing with those little garbage I snatched from the trashcans. I remembered the day she took care of me when I got ill. I thought I would miss all the motherly care. That's when my tears flowed from my eyes like the water from Angat dam that was released from the reservior. Then, a small sound was echoing inside me saying "Let it out!" That tiny sound became loud and seemed to choke me. And there was I, crying out loud. I thought of words to say while crying but my vocal chords were not able to engineer those words. I wanted to curse the Mother Superior for bringing my family into a mess. I thought she broke my family. She brain-washed my mother that it's no good to stay with my father!

I didn't remember how they tamed me from crying. All I could think about that time was I would be taken away from Mama. That they would take away my childhood-growing in a happy, complete family! I saw my older sister across the table looking at me and crying but her mouth was mum. I knew she wanted to rescue me from the emotional death I was enduring. I knew she thought who I'd choose. I thought she could see it in my eyes. And she's mad at me for that.

I didn't remember how I said my decision because it was too painful for me. It's like I hit my head with a very big bang. I left that room still crying but a little bit of comforted. Somebody hugged me but I didn't even care because all I could think about is a loss. I thought that my life would end up the same whoever I chose- a messed up childhood. I was not wrong...

And I chose my father and went to that slum area thereafter. I had independence from the retards in that orphanage but I missed my mother so much. The pain didn't stop but I outgrew my longing for her and accepted the fact that I could never see my family whole again...

Monday, July 12, 2010

A New Day Has Come

Today, I made a promise to myself while strolling in Mall Of Asia. It's something I haven't done for the longest time I remember. I already thought of it last night but it seemed impossible for me to keep it after an emotional turbulence has calmed down but, alas, I was able to still feel the urge of doing some things in my little unknown life even after the turmoil I was into. This maybe a sign, hence the changes I wanna do for the better.

First, I'd be more conversant and more inquisitive. You see, back in college, I always listened to people. Hearing, digesting and concluding on the ideas, thoughts and emotions of my peers, friends and clients (means those I counselled) became more of an obligation before. I was not able to listen to myself and be heard by most of these people. Thus, when I got out of college, I became more of myself. For almost four years after college I became more self-centered, which I haven't done ever since. I want to go back to that wonderful stage when I learned a lot from other's pains, sorrows and happiness. So now, more of others, less of myself.

Second, I know I already expanded my horizon and met almost everyone. Hahaha! I meant all sort of people. You might be surprised but I already traveled from Luzon to Mindanao but not for luxury nor business nor work, of course. I'm yet to become a travel whore who can afford lush hotels and lustful vacations. My second promise is actually more on knowing the people I already met and had meal, sex and/or kisses with. This maybe impossible but I'm planning to meet again every face I've met since I developed the so-called sex-life, oh sorry, social life.

Third, since PNoy promised transparency, I also promise to become more transparent of how and what I feel. Don't worry I only intend to show the positive emotions. Occasionally, I can be the bitchiest bitch but I promise that my intentions of expressions are of good.

With these in mind, I, now, bind myself to the Unbreakable Vow! Waaah! This is it. No turning back. Can I just breathe the long last air of my old self? Woah! Hayz... As if may naniniwalang masama ako! Chos.

I, G, has bound myself to the above-mentioned promises. I will carry out these promises to the best of my ability. And if I shall fail, I will nail myself in a cross upside-down. Sorry. Okay, if I shall fail I hope everyone of you will forgive me and give another chance.

Thanks.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

First Encounter, Part 1

While writing this, I felt like vomiting. I just had my second stick of cigarette but I still felt like smoking hundreds. My fingers were shaking so I had to slowly push the keypads to completely translate that night into a coherent story.

I still don't know what may happen after revealing the darkest secret I haven't shared to anyone but God. Read on...

He is a relative.

My before-bed scene started with the thoughts of the bikini-ed R-rated-movie actor I saw that morning. I was thinking of him beside me naked and embracing my entirety with his warm arms. I remembered I thought us kissing and making out. It lasted for as long as I was still awake until I fell asleep.

Then, suddenly, something tickled on my thighs like a warm breathe. I couldn't make out of that thing nor imagine what it was. Slowly, fingers treaded through my toes, pulled it and eventually folded my leg. But it was not the ordinary pull. It was a caress I've never encountered before. I must say that it felt great and orgasmic.

When my leg was almost completely folded, I felt that warm something again sandwiched between my skin. It was the penis of "B", served hard and steamy. He pushed his thing then pulled and so on. Then, he searched for my hand. At this point, my heart was beating three times the normal not because this is my first encounter but because I was afraid.

I was afraid that someone might catch us. I was afraid because I could painfully lose my virginity at the young age of 12. I was afraid because this might confirm the doubts about the true me.

However, he was able to maneuver it as if he can see me in the absence of light. Next thing I know was were kissing. Not just the usual kiss but a kiss I couldn't imagine he could do. His tongue toured into my mouth and commanding me to do the same with his.

He wrapped his arms in me just like I imagined it with the actor I saw in Bulgar (local tabloid). And the rest was a tasteful work of lust.

Honestly, I felt good and bad at the same time. But I think I enjoyed it because I craved and did it more with him...